


Humbled in Love

by sarahcakes613



Series: The Cohen Files [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8813410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: Bronn's blood is up after being ambushed on the way to the Eyrie. Catelyn helps him with that.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bex_xo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bex_xo/gifts).



_You need a woman. Nothing like a woman after a fight._ – Bronn, Game of Thrones 1x05

_And you say you've been humbled in love_  
 _Cut down in your love_  
 _Forced to kneel in the mud next to me_  
 _Ah but why so bitterly turn from the one_  
 _Who kneels there as deeply as thee_ – Humbled in Love, Leonard Cohen

He’d been jesting when he spoke to Tyrion, but all the same, Bronn knows what he knows. There’s nothing like a woman after a fight. He’s a bit skint for options, but he’s never been picky. He doesn’t favour his chances with the Lady Arryn, but after two days on the High Road, he has his eyes on her sister. Catelyn Stark has an icy exterior, but Bronn is willing to gamble on a hot-blooded woman existing underneath those furs.

He sidles out of the room he is sharing with the two knights, all that remain of Lady Stark’s company after the ambush. Neither so much as stir as he opens the door and lets himself out into the hall. He has done what surveying he could on their way up to the Eyrie, but he imagines it will take him some time to find her room. He supposes as the sister of Lady Arryn, she’ll be roomed somewhere higher up the tower, somewhere with more privacy than his shared room allows.

He sticks to the shadows, keeps his head down and his feet shadowcat-light. He sees no one, and there are few lights peeking out from under doors. He knows he is close when he hears a low murmur of voices and recognizes one as Lady Stark’s. Tucking himself behind a column, he waits and watches.

Mere moments go by, and he sees her uncle, the man Tyrion referred to as the Blackfish, leaving a room, calling out good night to the occupant. She responds too quietly for Bronn to make out, but hers is the only voice, so he decides to take his chance on her sister being already abed.

Uncle Blackfish has left the door ajar, and Bronn slides in, shutting and latching it quietly enough that Catelyn, back to him, does not notice. He stands there for a moment, just watching her. She’s been crying, he can see the streaks on her face, but she is still beautiful. She is undressing, wearing only a chemise, and he watches as she leans over to remove her hose. Her body shifts, causing the fabric to move around her, and he grins slowly, appreciating the way it falls over her rear end.

He takes a step now, and another, and lets out a low whistle. Catelyn whirls around, eyes round in alarm. She opens her mouth, but he is in front of her before she can catch enough breath to scream, and he has one hand on her mouth, the other wrapped around to grip the rear end he’s just been admiring. It feels soft and lush, and he shifts his hand to cup one cheek and push her against him.

There’s no fear in her eyes, but there is a wary look, as she waits to see what he will do next. He takes a chance, removes the hand that is covering her mouth. She doesn’t scream, says nothing, just continues to stare steadily at him. The wary look has been replaced with a calculating one, and they stand together in silence. Bronn grins again, all teeth and danger, and he leans in close to whisper in her ear. He can feel her body tense as he breathes against her neck.

“You look tense, Lady Stark,” Bronn says in a low voice. “Might be I can help you with that.”

He pulls back enough to watch her face as she responds. She says nothing, and hardly moves, until he sees her head jerk once, twice, in a nod.

“Yes,” she says it so quietly that he could have imagined it, but she says it again. “Yes.”

One hand still gripping her, he maneuvers them towards the large bed, stopping when Catelyn’s back hits a bedpost. He slides his hand down from her ass, slowly lifting the back of her shift, he trails his fingers across her thigh, dipping between them to tease at her pussy. He strokes her slowly, tracing his fingers up and down, and he watches her face intently. Catelyn’s eyes are closed, her lips slightly parting as her breath speeds up.

Bronn leans in to her ear again, low and humming. “Open your eyes, Lady Stark.”

Her eyes shoot open, twin daggers pointed straight at him. He laughs, a short, cruel sound.

“Oh, that’s it, then? Not so proper you won’t fuck me, but can’t look at me while you do it?” He mocks, stepping back from her. He shrugs, makes to turn and leave.

“Stop.” It is only one word, but she has put every ounce of her nobility into it, made it an order from a queen to a knave.

He faces her again, comes close, faces an eyelash’s distance apart. “You’ll look at me, my lady,” he hisses. “No pretending I’m your handsome Northern lord.”

Her face shifts at this. “Not to worry, _ser_ ,” she spits back at him. “You are nothing like my lord husband, and I will pretend nothing.”

Bronn closes the last gap of space between them, pushes her back against the bedpost til he hears the wood creaking. He can feel her heart beating against his chest, her hands coming up to grasp his shoulders, finally making contact with his body. He thrusts his hips against hers, grinding against her so she feels him, hard and hot against her belly.

He is tempted to take her like this, standing up with her legs in the air, reliant on him to hold her in place, but the day’s fighting is catching up to him and he steers her onto the bed. He straddles her, pinning her down with his thighs while he removes his leathers and tunic. He tugs at his laces, opening them just enough to relieve some of the pressure on his cock.

Leaning back, he slowly begins to raise her shift, pulling it up over her knees, over her thighs, her belly, her breasts, until it is bunched up around her shoulders.  He looks down at her appreciatively. He knows she’s got a whole brood of Starklings, but her body still looks firm and inviting. She has not bothered to fully remove her shift, leaving the fabric where he has shoved it.

Bronn is many things, but he’ll not have it said he doesn’t aim to please. Leaning forward, he puts his hands on either side of Catelyn’s arms and bows his head over her breasts. He exhales softly, the cold air mingling with his hot breath making her nipples harden and pull taut. He takes one in his mouth, flicking his tongue around and around. Her breath has sped up, and he switches his attentions to the other nipple. He continues to alternate between them, licking and nipping at them until they are harder than dragonglass. Her breathing is ragged now, and he crawls back down her body to the juncture at her thighs.

He kisses her stomach, her thighs, her mound, down to her opening. He can smell her arousal now, can feel her thighs clenching around him. She is wet, he can see her moistness glistening on the hair around her pussy. Drawing himself back up, he reaches for her hands. She looks at him, eyes glazed under heavy lids. He lays one hand on his laces, so she can feel his cock throbbing under the fabric. She unlaces him, draws him out.

His cock sits in her hand, hot and heavy, larger than her hand by half. She is not looking at it, but at his face, as she deftly strokes him, dipping her free hand into her own fluids, bringing it up to oil his shaft.

His head is thrown back, enjoying the feel of her hand gripping him, but he didn’t sneak all the way up here for a task he could accomplish on his own. Bronn tugs at her thighs, pulling her further down the bed, positions himself at her opening, and with one sure stroke, he is inside her. She is heat and damp and soft, and for a moment he is still, enjoying the feeling. She makes no sound save a sharp inhale, and he smirks as he decides to see what sounds he can wrench from her.

His hips are a slow swing, as he angles himself and pushes in deeper, pulling very nearly all the way out and then pushing back in, slow and steady, until he hears her curse under her breath.

“What’s that, my lady?” He asks, with a harsh chuckle. “Are you enjoying that?”

She curses again, puts her hands on his shoulders, and very deliberately, digs her nails, dragging them down his back. He swears at this, and speeds up, setting a bruising pace, hips slamming into hers, as he plunges himself in and out of her. He grabs her hips and pulls so her ass is on his thighs, she is nearly folded in half, and as he continues to mercilessly fuck her, he can hear her breathing speeding up now, can hear as she gasps for air.

He doesn’t stop, the day’s adrenaline has come back now, and he can feel her clenching, tightening around him as he pushes into her, pushes himself, pushes her closer to her peak.

When she comes, it is with a single plaintive cry that sends him over the edge to meet her, grunting as he fills her with his seed.

When he doesn’t get off of her, Catelyn props herself up on her elbows and looks at him. “Surely you don’t expect an invitation to spend the night, _ser?_ ” she asks mockingly.

Bronn sneers, “No, my lady, I don’t. And surely you don’t think I’m finished with you?” He punctuates his question with another thrust of his hips. “Me blood’s up, it’s going to take more than one rough and tumble to satisfy me tonight.”

She purses her lips, and he thinks she is about to protest, but any thoughts she has are swiftly evaporated as in one swift move, he slides out of her, flips her onto her stomach, and thrusts back into her. He pulls her hips back to him, grips her so tight he can see his fingers imprinting on her skin.

The new angle causes some small part of Catelyn’s composure to break, she begins to pant audibly, pushing back against him. He leans over her back, gathers her hair in one fist, pulling it so her head turns to him.

“Careful now, my lady. Wouldn’t want your uncle hearing you. What would he say, seeing his proper lady niece moaning with my cock up her cunt?” She does moan now, low and keening, and he feels her walls squeezing him as she reaches her second peak. He’s in no hurry now, and he keeps his grip on her hair but continues to pull, her neck arching towards him.

He moves his other hand up to the small of her back, feels the sweat that is pooling there, moves his hand back down over her rear, gripping one cheek til it is red as a peach in bloom. He pulls his hand back and slaps her, a noticeable crack as his hand meets her ass. Her moans grow louder, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Do you like that, my lady?” He asks, making no attempt to keep the amusement out of his voice. She doesn’t respond, and he slaps her again. “I asked you a question, _my lady_.”

“Yes! Gods damn you, yes!” He can just make out the fury in her eyes, mixed with humiliation and arousal, and it excites him. He lets go of her hair and reaches his hand around to her front, down past her belly to find that small pleasure spot all women have. Finding it, he strokes it in double time to his thrusts, his slaps against her ass cheeks. She has one of her own hands against her mouth now, trying to keep herself from shouting out. He stops the assail on her rear, moves his hand to hers, and once again she is squeezing his cock, trembling underneath him, as she comes for a third time. This time she has his hand at her mouth, and she bites down as she comes, and he finally lets himself lose control, thrusts becoming erratic as he finds his second completion.

He slides out of her, and falls back on the bed, huffing. She has pulled a blanket over herself and she lies there curled in on herself. Bronn stands, laces up his trousers and reaches for his tunic. “I’ll see myself out,” he says softly. “Sleep well, Lady Stark.”

He doesn’t expect a reply, and is not surprised when he doesn’t receive one. He cautiously tiptoes out of the room, making his way back to his own quarters, he does not look back.


End file.
